Hurry up and pass me so you can slow down

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DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  


As clever as I think I am I’m occasionally humbled by one of my readers. A particularly good subject was sent to me earlier this week by a member of the “Fighting Illini” (no, not a member of a University of Illinois sports team; rather, a citizen of Illinois who hates paying tolls as much as I did when I lived there). 

This person whom I’ll call “Bobby” said his biggest annoyance are people who pass you on a two-lane road…and then a hundred feet or so later will slow down (and perhaps stop) because they’re making a turn. What’s that all about?

I consider myself an impatient person and there’s nothing worse than being behind somebody doing 15 or more miles per hour below the speed limit. But I’m also a vain person and the prospect of passing somebody to gain 10-15 seconds more lead time and be diagnosed by a freelance proctologist is too big a leap for me, so 99 times out of 100 (hey…I’m not perfect!) I’ll hang back, grumble to myself or the radio, whichever comes first, and make my turn when I get there.

Chances are there wasn’t anybody behind me because I seem to be the only one who suffers at the hands of a licensed turtle.

Is it that American drivers have become so competitive that they can’t wait for an extra 15 seconds to make a turn? Or does this person have to make pee pee so bad that those 15 seconds could make the difference between wet and dry? Furthermore, most two-lane roads are usually in rural areas and rural areas are generally surrounded by trees. If someone has to go #1 that bad then there’s a tree with your (for lack of a better word) name on it.

The sad thing is that there’s no way to tell if the person who just roared around you is going to suddenly make a turn because it’s almost a sure bet that this miscreant won’t be using a turn signal. Turn signals don’t exist in Assland. If, and when he does slow down it’s a 50/50 chance what direction his vehicle will turn.

However, as he’s slowing down, make plans to arm your middle fingers and when he goes to make his turn, lay on the horn and let those fingers fly like Liberace playing a piano. Unlike doing the same thing in the city that will result in road rage and likely get you killed, in the country this idiot is not going to abort his turn and go after you. Rather, he’ll sit there and wonder what kind of anus is that guy behind me to be exhibiting such childish behavior. Remember rule #1 in the Asshole’s Driving Manual,”The other guy is always at fault — no matter what the occurrence.” Think of you flipping this guy off as a “freebie.”

The best scenario for active retaliation is if this same dung heap passes you as you’re nearing a “T” intersection. If this starts to happen you can speed up and foil his attempt at one-upsmanship. Then, if for some reason he’s so angry he forgets himself and uses his turn signal, turn in that same direction whether it’s the way you were intending to go or not. It’s worth going a mile or so out of your way to ruin this buffoon’s day (and believe me this anger will fester for hours, if not days).

Perhaps his anger will stay with him when he goes to work and he’ll do something so bizarre that it will bring on his sudden dismissal from his job. Carrying on the true tradition of his ilk his first stop will be a tavern, where he’ll get so wasted he’ll pick a fight with Bad, Bad Leroy Brown, and the rest is history.

The whole point of my little one-act plays is this: there’s nothing short of having to go #2 so badly you can taste it that should prompt a passing scenario as Bobby and I have described. If the prospect of having a vehicle in front of you is so heinous then let me suggest a trip to Barry’s Gun and Soda Shop. Buy yourself a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun on earth, and if you feel lucky, punk, put it in your mouth and pull the trigger.

I can almost guarantee you’ll never be slowed up by traffic again but you’ll go straight to Hell in a very quick hand-basket.